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“Shh, little baby. You’re okay.” I wrapped him up in a fluffy towel and carried him into the bedroom. Carlo kept a bunch of baby supplies on his side of the room, so I set the baby down on our bed and turned around to find a diaper and whatever butt cream he was using.
As I was putting the diaper on him, a lock of hair fell onto his bare belly, and I laughed. I picked it off and tossed it onto the floor. “Your father can clean that up later.” I giggled and scooped him up. And there I stood—naked. With greasy hair, covered in fallen hair from my impromptu haircut, and soaped up, unshaven legs.
That made me laugh even harder.
The baby immediately stopped crying and blinked at me. Then he blinked some more.
He was the sweetest.
It hit me that I’d have to get dressed to go downstairs. Or the security guys would get an eyeful.
But I started feeling a bit dizzy. I hadn’t spent this much time on my feet in weeks.
“Your momma needs to sit down for a minute.” I sat on the edge of the bed, holding him close to me.
He was quiet now. And very, very awake. He started turning his head to the side, and I knew what that meant. “You’re hungry, I know. I need a minute and then I’ll get dressed and we can go get a bottle for you.”
A knocking at the bedroom door startled me, and I gasped.
“Mrs. Sovrano. Are you all right in there? Do you need assistance?” a loud, deep voice asked through the door.
I twisted my torso around, took a deep breath, and answered back, “We’re okay. Thank you for checking.”
At that moment, I felt something touch my nipple. When I turned back around—the baby had found a faster way to get his own breakfast.
My first instinct was to pull him off me. And then tears I hadn’t known existed began falling down my cheeks. Big, hot, heavy tears.
And lots of them.
He nuzzled right onto where he needed to be.
And it was beautiful.
So beautiful.
My chin quivered, and I sobbed. “You are so beautiful. My baby. My son. Marcello,” I whispered his name like a prayer. And I offered it up to his grandfather, who I knew was watching over his grandson at this very moment.
My milk let down and the baby—my baby—started swallowing furiously to keep up. And he had no trouble at all doing that.
My son was hungry.
And I was feeding him.
He wanted me. My baby wanted me.
I couldn’t stop crying. But that was okay. These were happy tears.
My teardrops fell down my face and onto Marcello. He was a mess of hair and his mommy’s tears.
And it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Christ, what the fuck happened?” Carlo’s voice broke me out of my thoughts.
I looked up at his very concerned face. I sniffled and wiped my face with that back of my hand. Another clump of hair fell onto Marcello’s belly, and I made a weird laugh/cry/snorting sound. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
His eyes scoured over the two of us on the bed. Probably looking like we’d just been through a natural disaster.
And I guess, in a way—we had been.
